


it passes right by me, it's behind me, now it's gone

by faceshredders



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Summer of Like, Warped Tour 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 11:52:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14424837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faceshredders/pseuds/faceshredders
Summary: Mikey is looking somewhere into the middle distance, his wide eyes focused on a spot somewhere on the horizon: "I wanted to get caught," he says after a beat. "I think- I thought that if someone caught me they'd have to pay attention.""I see you," Pete says. He's embarrassed straight after he says it, but it's worth it to hear Mikey laugh jaggedly into the stifling air, hear him say, "I know you do."





	it passes right by me, it's behind me, now it's gone

"Do you want one," Mikey says without asking, holding the carton out between his index finger and thumb. Pete takes one partially because it's free and he was taught to never look a gift horse in the mouth, and partially because he doesn't know what to do with his hands any more than Mikey does. They're Marlboro Reds, the kind that he knows Gerard smokes: he wonders if it makes him a creep to find Gerard abstractly attractive when Mikey is sitting so close, sprawled out in the hot gloom and looking for all the world as fucked out as he is. Mikey, who for all of his calm and measure is so highly strung that sometimes Pete swears he can feel the tension roiling close to the surface of his skin, sitting close and smoking with his head tilted back so his throat is exposed. "I stole these," says Mikey, apropos of nothing. 

"Why?" Pete asks. He rolls over onto his side to look at Mikey's face. 

Mikey is looking somewhere into the middle distance, his wide eyes focused on a spot somewhere on the horizon: "I wanted to get caught," he says after a beat. "I think- I thought that if someone caught me they'd have to pay attention." He takes a long pull from his cigarette and looks back over at Pete with his mouth set somewhere between smiling and crying before he exhales. "Fucked up, right?" 

Pete covers Mikey's hand with his. "I see you," he says. He's embarrassed straight after he says it, but it's worth it to hear Mikey laugh jaggedly into the stifling air, hear him say, "I know you do." 

If thinking Gerard is hot makes him a creep, Pete wonders idly, where does having sex with Mikey who hasn't been sober longer than a few hours the whole tour put him? Mikey's forehead is clammy with sweat and tucked into the crook of Pete's neck, and the baby wipes they'd used to clean up- "Baby wipes?" Pete had said teasingly when Mikey had turned up with the pack and a six pack of cans. "Scandalous, Mikeyway."- in various states of soiled and unspeakable screwed up between them. 

When they'd made out for the first time and Mikey had ended up on his back with Pete in between his legs, Pete couldn't help but think about how quickly it had all come about, and even though the evening had only ended with Pete's dick in Mikey's mouth and Mikey cumming in his jeans like a fifteen year old, Pete had scrawled "EASY" on Mikey's exposed forearm with the same pen he used to label CDs burned from his laptop. Mikey had played the My Chem set the next day with the sleeves of his jacket pushed back, and Pete had watched ampside, queerly exhilarated to be part of some small secret that felt like such a huge, all encompassing conspiracy. 

The second time they'd almost slept together-"You didn't count the first time as sleeping together?" Mikey had raised an eyebrow and Pete couldn't help the flush and guilty smile that spread across his face- he'd felt almost like a little kid: he'd done casual sex six ways to Sunday, yet there was something about Mikey's experienced flop back onto Pete's bed, the way he knew to wrap his legs around Pete's waist at the right time, the way he'd leaned back, sweaty and semi-swollen that made Pete feel like it was his first time all over again, fumbling a condom out of his wallet in the bathroom of someone's house party and finishing in record time. 

And then Mikey had stopped him with a hand pressed flush against his chest and pushed him away. "Have you ever even been with a guy before?" he'd asked with an accusing, breathless laugh. 

There it was, in its essence, Pete reflects, running his finger along Mikey's shoulder; it isn't broad, per se, but there's a hard line that he's never known in a woman. The tendons in Mikey's wrists are hard and tight, his hips straight and narrow. There's an underlying strength there that makes Pete anxious, despite how attracted he might be to Mikey. Because as androgynous as he might occasionally be, Mikey is a guy, and that's always been something Pete has never done. 

A blowjob can remain between friends, but as soon as he and Mikey move onto something else, something more, Pete isn't just a straight guy who likes to have fun anymore, and that's a something Pete isn't sure he wants. 

"I was seventeen the first time," Mikey tells him later. They're sitting in the sun, both sweaty and unshowered, Mikey's sunglasses slipping down his long nose despite his frequent attempts to shove them back up. "The first time I was with a guy, I mean. I don't-" He presses his lips together into a line and Pete can tell that he's narrowing his eyes behind his sunglasses. "I don't think it's a bad thing that we're doing what we're doing. And I don't think it's a bad thing that I like to do it. But I think you do." 

"You've been listening to too many of Gerard's sex positivity talks," says Pete, because he doesn't know what else to say. 

"We aren't talking about Gerard right now," Mikey says scornfully. "I love him but he's not my fucking keeper. We're talking about me and you, and what are we? Am I your boyfriend? Is that what this is?"

"You can be my boyfriend," Pete says automatically even though the very sound of it makes him panic like the sky is falling in. 

"Are you my boyfriend?" Mikey asks. He's raw and vulnerable and Pete just has to say one single fucking word and all of this will go away. 

It gets stuck in his throat on the way out, and Mikey pushes to his feet when he sees the look on Pete's face. 

"Don't call me," he throws over his shoulder as he goes, "I'll call you." 

He wonders how he's managed to fuck something that should be so easy up so spectacularly. 

* * *

 

Mikey texts, in the end. It's only been two days, but the number of days left on the tour, and the end of days seems closer and more tangible than ever. 

' _srry 4 being a bitch on snday :/ all of this just means alot more 2 me than u think bc im pretty sure u think im frigid or whatever_ ,' Mikey sends. And then, a second later, ' _fireworks 2nite_?'

' _fireworks 2nite_ ,' Pete fires back. He's not normally above being petty and making people wait after they've hurt him, but this is different in infinite, multifaceted ways that Pete can't even begin to explain, so he doesn't. 

He finds Mikey lingering by the buses after the shows with Gerard's hand on his arm; he meets Pete's eye and half smiles, lifting his can in greeting. "Hey," he says, and Gerard gives him a somewhat grim smile before he melts away into a crowd of techs. 

"Hey," Pete says. He takes a step closer to Mikey, whose eyes invite him to approach, even if his expression is guarded and borderline don't-fuck-with-me-ish. "I'm sorry for being a dick to you. On Sunday. When we fought." He's anxious suddenly, wishing he had a cigarette, or a beer, or a joint or something to lessen the urge to twist his hands like a cornered schoolboy.  

Mikey's expression unravels then as pity replaces the hard, closed off expression he wore before. "This isn't what I want from you, Pete," he says tiredly. "I wanted to apologize for acting like I didn't know what this was, that we weren't just screwing around or whatever. It was a total guilt trip and I'm sorry."

"Is this not something you want?" Pete asks. It would kill him to break it off so suddenly but if Mikey says it's over then Pete'll grit his teeth and bear it. Play at being friends with the one guy he's ever really fallen for. Whatever. 

Mikey makes a low noise of frustration. "Of course this is something I want."

"So we're okay?"

"We're okay," Mikey confirms softly. 

* * *

 

The fireworks are huge, and feel almost dangerous in their extravagance. 

"Gerard was involved somewhere along the line," Mikey calls to Pete above the cheers and hollers at every diamante explosion. 

"Fucking pyro," Pete yells back, and Mikey grins, unrepentant. 

He's drinking, and Pete is experienced enough with Mikey now to know that he's drinking heavily, and, from the abortive, agitated movements he keeps making with his hands when he thinks Pete isn't looking, possibly on something. He's thinking Ritalin when Mikey leans back against Pete's shoulder, head tilted towards the skies and his mouth partially open. 

"They're so beautiful," he says, and Pete agrees. "I'm glad you're here with me." 

They end up in a cab, instead of heading back to the buses. "I want to see the sea," Mikey had told him absently, swaying slightly. "Before we have to go."  
  
"We have to be back before the buses go," Pete had said stupidly, even as Mikey had called for a taxi and they stumbled their way to the main road. 

The car is hot and somehow cramped, even though there are only two of them; Mikey is clammy, his skin cool to the touch even though the air is dusty and dry with a strong warm breeze running through it. They hold hands in the back of the car, and Pete doesn't even try to resist the temptation to shove his head out of the rolled down window even if Mikey is laughing at him. 

They have to climb a fence to get to the sea, Mikey going first and dragging Pete after him. They lay on the sand in front of the waves for what could be hours before Mikey pushes to his knees, and straddles Pete. "I'm kind of in love with you," he tells him. "Like, seriously."

"I'm kind of in love with you too, Mikeyway," Pete says sombrely. "In case you hadn't noticed."

"I wish I could feel like this my whole life," says Mikey. He moves down so that he can lay against Pete's chest, run his hands over his sides, kiss his chest through his t-shirt. "I'm going to be so gritty and gross in the morning, but this is, like, it. This is the second I'd pick if I got to have a moment to live over and over again." 

"I love you," Pete repeats, scratching down Mikey's clothed back just to feel him, and for a few hours the moment sticks around and he doesn't have to think about anything but Mikey's weight on top of him and being there, and in three hours time he'll scrawl "FUCKED" on Mikey's forearm as a secret that everyone can see. 

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to anyone reading petemikey or petekey or whatever we're calling it atm in the year of our lord 2018 and beyond if i don't delete this because i get the fear a week after posting 
> 
> anyway feel free to lmk your thots and of any mistakes, i don't have a beta reader and i haven't written anything in a literal half decade because of uhhhhhhh executive dysfunction anyway! thank u for reading have a good one


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